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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914513">Words on the Street</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethatwewerein/pseuds/lovethatwewerein'>lovethatwewerein</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Worst of the Wonderful Warblers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:43:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethatwewerein/pseuds/lovethatwewerein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Under the cloak of darkness, things were easy. Life was easy. There were no teenage boys demanding he move from his chair, or yelling at Hunter when his fur happened to stick to their blazers. He couldn’t be blamed for Hunter’s lackadaisical approach to his grooming in recent weeks. Yes, life after dark was amazing - not just for the companionship it provided. </i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mr. Puss/Lord Tubbington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Worst of the Wonderful Warblers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Words on the Street</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another cursed fic guys. Again, I cannot be blamed. </p>
<p>Title comes from 'I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance', solely because I was listening to it while I wrote it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Under the cloak of darkness, things were easy. Life was easy. There were no teenage boys demanding he move from his chair, or yelling at Hunter when his fur happened to stick to their blazers. He couldn’t be blamed for Hunter’s lackadaisical approach to his grooming in recent weeks. Yes, life after dark was amazing - not just for the companionship it provided. </p>
<p>They had met on a cool fall night, each hunting mice to present as a gift to their owners. Lord Tubbington was everything Mr Puss wasn’t; scraggy and feral, all dark tones illuminated in the moonlight. He was different from the purebreds he had spent time with to the preppy warblers he now found himself surrounded by. </p>
<p>And so, he had returned to that park after nightfall, hoping desperately to meet Lord Tubbington once again. </p>
<p>He had taken his time seducing the other cat, catching him rats and beheading them with as much dignity as one could ever muster. It hadn’t been long before Lord Tubbington worked his way under his fur, into his heart. </p>
<p>No cat had done that until now, wormed their way into his good graces so smoothly. If he were human, if he were Hunter, perhaps he would take the other on a date, provide him with flowers to tear to shreds and much encouragement disguised as insults. </p>
<p>Possibly, they would marry. Friends and family would throw mice over their heads in celebration, as per tradition. They would each look lovely, although he would look slightly better, considering his better healthcare. The warblers would be there, grateful that he was human and their uniforms were no longer at the mercy of his hair. And Lord Tubbington’s owner would be there despite him having never met her, likely dressed in some odd combination of floral and stripes. </p>
<p>His life becomes interesting, dripping with romance like those films Hunter would never admit to watching. It’s clandestine, soaked in mystery, for days, weeks, until they’re discovered, distracted by one another beneath a bush. </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Hunter can’t say for sure that he knows his cat, that he understands the recesses of his mind. How could he, when the feline continues to sneak through the open window during the night. What he isn’t expecting is to be accosted by Nick and Jeff, a laptop shoved in front of his face. </p>
<p>They pull it back when he shoves them away, his eyes adjusting to the screen. It takes a moment, the edges of his vision still blurry, for him to notice Mr Puss, lounging on a bed behind a perky blonde girl, a tabby cat at his side. </p>
<p>He reads the video title - Fondue for Two - and wonders if his cat has been kidnapped. He’s prepared to track her down, demanding she return his pet, when the volume is suddenly turned up and her voice echoes through the senior commons. </p>
<p>“My dearest fans, I bring good news,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Lord Tubbington has finally found love.” </p>
<p>He raises an eyebrow, someone (Sebastian, he suspects) snorts loudly as she continues. “I do not know his name, but this cat was caught in the bushes outside my house and,” she pauses for emphasis. “Since they are both dolphins, this is more than some passing fling.” </p>
<p>They all laugh at that, dolphins and passing flings and the reality of his cat being stolen by a woman with an internet talk show. </p>
<p>“You know who that is, don’t you?” Sebastian asks when they begin to leave. Mr Puss will return soon enough, of that he’s sure. “Brittany S. Pierce. Member of the new directions.” </p>
<p>He smothers a laugh because, of course, the person that has his cat is the competition. He hands Nick back the laptop. “No wonder she’s loopy.” </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Hunter’s waiting when he returns, confused about the day’s events but content with the extra time spent with his paramour. It doesn’t matter that Lord Tubbington’s owner is the dumbest person alive, he can live with that. </p>
<p>“How was your day?” Hunter asks him, the grin and tone he usually reserves strictly for Sebastian directing at him for once. Instead of acknowledging the question, he merely curls up on the bed, peacefully dreaming of mice and fondue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>I'm sorry? </i>
</p>
<p>I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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